


unprofessional discourse

by outboxed (fallencrest)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Hannibal Being Hannibal, Licking, M/M, faux psychiatry, speech during sex, stuttered speech during sex, this is probably all a dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallencrest/pseuds/outboxed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So, Will," Hannibal says, tone clinical as ever, "tell me about these wholly unprofessional things you've been thinking of." His hand, as he speaks, is making a gradual progress up Will's inseam but it stops, patient, at the end of the sentence, as if awaiting a response. </p>
<p>"Go on," Hannibal says, still utterly measured.</p>
<p>(a.k.a. a broken speech during sex kink ficlet, written for <a href="http://heeroluva.livejournal.com/259392.html">Five Acts</a> at LJ)</p>
            </blockquote>





	unprofessional discourse

"So, Will," Hannibal says, tone clinical as ever, "tell me about these wholly unprofessional things you've been thinking of." His hand, as he speaks, is making a gradual progress up Will's inseam but it stops, patient, at the end of the sentence, as if awaiting a response. 

"Go on," Hannibal says, still utterly measured.

"I think," Will says, and Hannibal's hand moves up to cup Will's crotch. It's as gentle and undemanding a touch as seems humanly possible, given where it is, but the friction, the reality of it, is enough to make Will gasp. 

"Go on," Hannibal says again, hand stilled. "What is it that you think?"

"I think about," another gasp, another movement of Hannibal's hand, a moment of insistent pressure, "about this, I-" and his voice cracks. He's learning now how Hannibal's hand will still when he pauses, when he breaks, so he hurries on, words too fast, "I think about you and I think-" a hitch of breath, "about how-" and it was enough to have Hannibal's hand working him through his jeans but now he's got Hannibal's tongue, trailing slow up his neck, and it doesn't stop right away, not just as soon as Will pauses, words gone, unsure what he was even saying, and he hopes this will be the end of the questioning, that Hannibal will just keep-

But no, of course not. 

"Will," Hannibal says, suddenly seeming distant, voice betraying no hint of what he's been doing to Will, "how am I supposed to help me if you won't open up to me? You have to talk to me, Will, or how can we make any progress?"

"I think about you," Will snaps out, almost angry, a little desperate, "doing this-" he says, but there's Hannibal's hand again, and it's unbuttoning his jeans now, as though they're finally getting somewhere, "to me," Will says, momentum of his words ebbing as Hannibal's fingers touch skin, finally. 

But Will's learnt the rules now, and he knows he has to keep talking, "and I want it. I know it's-" and there, that's it, Hannibal's hand on his cock, oh Christ it's- 

The hand stills. Will says, "unprofessional, I, uh- oh, fuck, I know- but I can't- I can't stop, I-" and there's a roughness to the way Hannibal pushes Will's jeans down and, "I try- god, I try. Only-" the rhythm of Hannibal's hand, working his cock, begins to establish then stops, waiting, "I can't make it stop," Will says, voice half a whine, a plea, "I- I can't control it- my mind, it just- it's just-" breath hitching," the dreams, like the Hobbs dreams, I wake up and I- my mind just- it won't stop, won't let me stop-" and there's Hannibal's tongue again, just at the base of his jaw, and Will tries to keep talking, he tries, but he was close already, he was already-

He staggers out a last few words, isn't even sure if they are words really, thinks they might have just been "I- you- I just-" and that's all it takes, that and Hannibal's hand, a brush of lips and the imagined feel of teeth against his skin. The sound he makes then isn't a word, isn't anything more than a whimper of caught breath and relief. 

"Now, Will," Hannibal says, "Doesn't it feel much better to talk about it."


End file.
